Saturday, 25 August 2012

Days of Future Past

“I can’t remember a year like this. Ever,” said an old man in the tweed
jacket and flat cap. My wife and I had stopped in the pub to take shelter from
the rain – not the cold mist that Irish people know so well, but a hard rain
that loudly hammered the low ceiling above our heads.

“Are you from here?” I asked him, talking over the drum roll above.

“Lived in this place all my life,” he said, “Sixty-seven years. I talked to
my neighbour down the road today – he’s 85 years old, and he said he’d never
seen a year like this. He thought 1947 was a bad year, but it was nothing like
this.”

Everyone here says the same: farmers, neighbours, bus drivers, the old lady
I met in the coffee shop this morning. As useful as it is to read the
record-breaking weather numbers, it also helps to talk to people who have spent
much of their time outdoors for decades and ask them how the air feels.

When modern people try to gauge whether climate change is real, they run
into several problems. We no longer live with a sense of our surroundings as
our ancestors did, but spend much of our time in a bubble of regulated
temperature and lighting. Even when we allow ourselves to feel the elements, we
do so for a narrow sliver of time; until recently most people only lived to
forty years or so, and while we have almost doubled that figure lately, our
lives still flicker on and off quickly compared to those trees or turtles.

We have been able to stretch our understanding far beyond our own lives, though,
thanks to a million or so un-thanked researchers each testing bits of the past:
pockets of prehistoric air trapped in ice, pollen grains in lake mud, bones and
branches and beetle wings, and bits of carbon left behind when an errant
subatomic particle jumped its atomic ship. In short, experts of all kinds, of
dozens of faiths and countries, have come up with a story of the past – and in
broad strokes it all fits like a particularly horrific jigsaw.

The story they tell us is not that carbon dioxide traps the heat of the sun
like greenhouse panes – that was known around the time of the US Civil War. Nor
is it the fact that our industry and modern machines are flooding the air with
carbon dioxide and will change the climate – that has been predicted for more
than a century.

Such information even entered into pop culture long ago. I have on my shelf
a book that once came free with Life magazine in 1955 called The World We Live In – it was to promote
science among young Americans in an age when both Life and science education were commonplace and uncontroversial. It
casually states (1) that pollution from cars and factories had boosted CO2
levels by 10 per cent -- those were the
days! -- and that the world would get much hotter in the years ahead. At
the time, saying that humans would someday walk on the moon would have been
more contentious.

While it did not appear the most urgent issue at the time, references to
carbon emissions remained in the mainstream; in 1965, for example, President
Lyndon Johnson said in a presidential speech that “this generation has altered
the composition of the atmosphere on a global scale through … a steady increase
in carbon dioxide from the burning of fossil fuels.” (2) In the 1980s, when a
growing body of data caused scientists to escalate their warnings, Time magazine
devoted cover stories to the issue, and in 1990 George Bush – the first one – said
that “we all know that human activities are changing the atmosphere in unexpected
and in unprecedented ways,” although he balked at most changes to deal with the
problem. (3)

Such pronouncements stood on a small but sufficient body of evidence –
enough to convict, as it were. The world’s experts had the ice-core and
balloon-test equivalents of witnesses, motive and fingerprints, and world
authorities listened, from the United Nations to Pope John Paul II. Over the
next twenty years, though, three things happened.

First, the evidence multiplied to many times what it was before, both
because we got better studies, clearer samples and so on, and because the
phenomenon itself continued, offering more looming tragedy to study. Instead of
just the witnesses, motive and confession, we now also had the equivalent of
DNA evidence, forensics evidence, a signed confession and video footage of the
crime. You had the accused changing their plea to “guilty.” You had the ghost
of the murder victim rising from the dead to point a finger at the accused. You
had the accused killer holding press conferences announcing exactly how they
committed the murder. In short, we went from 99 per cent certain to 100 per
cent.

The second was that, as evidence of the crisis increased, support for fixing
it decreased, until elites and media pundits – a minority in Europe, a majority
in the USA – claimed the massive changes around them were a hoax, a secret
conspiracy of scientists of many nations and faiths, their own eyes, and in
some cases, themselves from a few years earlier. The argument usually ran like
this:
1.) the weather was not changing,
2.) the cause of the change was unknown,
3.) we had nothing to do with the change,
4.) the change would turn out better for us, and
5.) the weather was not changing.

For the last two decades most environmental activists have continued
fighting the good fight, although usually claiming – as with most issues --
that “we” have only x number of years to stop climate change “or it will be too
late.” The number of years seemed to vary, for every new season and study
seemed to force a re-evaluation, and the “too late” part rang hollow, for
climate change has no starting point and nowhere to put a countdown.

A third thing changed, though – everything. As scientists
began to understand global warming, the more they realised that it wouldn’t bring
warmth. It would bring chaos.

A third thing changed, though – more people realised that global warming
wouldn’t necessarily bring warmth, but chaos. Not a steady progression in a
single, if sometimes inconvenient direction, nor a Hollywood apocalypse to
which we could count down. It would mean sudden swings to extremes that we
could not predict and for which we could never prepare. Even more disturbingly,
this might be a return to the normal state of climate.

To understand this, it helps to understand that ice ages were not, as some
people imagine, a planet covered in ice. The world probably did see something
like that 700 million years ago, a Snowball Earth that might have forced the
then-planet of germs to organise into bodies as fortresses against the
elements. Since then, though, the planet has been what we would consider
tropical, as in every dinosaur illustration you’ve ever seen.

Only a few million years ago did the world begin to see ice, and even then
it has swung between two moderate states. Every ten thousand years or so the
planet gets cooler and the ice caps expand down to Spain and Kentucky – the ice
age part -- and then they retreat to the small caps we know today. The cooler
stretches sound extreme to us because they covered today’s Western and
prosperous nations where so many of us live, but remember that even now, most
humans live elsewhere, and we didn’t just lose potential land. Places like
Chihuahua or the Sudan might have been more habitable than today, and the
Caribbean and Indonesia would turn from island chains to vast rainforests; in
terms of habitable space, we might gain as much in an Ice Age as we would lose.

It also helps to understand that humans did not merely endure weather, as we
once thought, but changed it long before we discovered the fuel potential of
fossils. US histories once imagined Native Americans wandering sparsely around
a virgin wilderness in loincloths, while European histories rarely mentioned
the hot and cold periods that had such power over European culture for hundreds
of years. A detailed history of Britain, for example, might have mentioned the
“frost fairs” on the River Thames, without explaining why the Thames no longer
freezes.

Over the last couple of decades, though, researchers began to fit various
pieces together --as chronicled in books like William Ruddiman’s Plows, Plagues and Petroleum and Charles
Mann’s 1493 – and concluded that
humans have been changing the climate since the end of the last ice age.

We imagine humans doing this in modern farming nations like Britain and
China, but ancient humans farmed almost everywhere they settled; in what is now
Arkansas and Nigeria, New Guinea and the Amazon. By cutting down most of the
world’s trees, humans sent a constant trickle of carbon dioxide into the sky
and prevented it from coming back, and that subtle shift, say some researchers
put off the ice age that would otherwise have been coming back right about now.

When large numbers of farmers suddenly stop farming and the forests return,
the effects can be seen in global weather. After Genghis Khan killed tens of
millions of farmers, the climate noticeably cooled, as it did after the Black
Death cut the European population by a third. When Europeans first reached the
Americas, they brought ten thousand years’ worth of diseases to which Natives
had no exposure, and an estimated 95 per cent of the population died, turning
what had been a densely populated landscape into an empty land. And once again,
the forests grew back, and the resulting Little Ice Age iced over the Thames –
and much of Europe – for the next 300 years.

The fact that we started changing the climate long ago, though, shouldn’t
make us take the current crisis less seriously; rather, it should serve as a
cautionary tale. If medieval farmers could do this much by burning trees,
releasing the sunlight and carbon drawn down from the last century, how much
more are we doing by unleashing hundreds of millions of years? What we are
doing, in fact, is flooding the air with the atmosphere of forests that existed
before dinosaurs, from when a dimmer sun shone over a thicker atmosphere and
giant insects under a fern-tree canopy. When we drive, fly, and use engines of
any kind, mixing our own air with that of an alien planet.

This brings us to the final and greatest problem, one that we are only
slowly beginning to realise. When the climate changed in the past – say, at the
end of the ice age – it did so far more quickly than we realised, perhaps in a
few generations. Climate change does not creep along slowly over generations,
but swings from one state to another wildly, and the last several thousand
years have been comparatively mild and moderate. We have lived in a stretch of
green and pleasant land not just as long as any individual can remember, but as
long as there was recorded history.

It seems a long time to us, but it’s a blink in geological time, merely a
summer in the ice-age oscillation. Humans have had modern brains for perhaps
ten times longer than that, and have walked upright perhaps 400 times longer.
In this ten-millennia stretch of warm and stable temperatures, though, we have
gone from our normal foraging to fields of crops, to cities, world wars and
plastics, and multiplied our numbers perhaps 7,000 times above normal. Now that
we have manipulated carbon dioxide levels as much as any ice age – just in the
opposite direction – we might return to a wildly oscillating climate.

Climatologist J. P. Steffens, who studies ice cores from his base on the
frozen wastes of Greenland, doesn’t believe this to be a coincidence. In
Elizabeth Kolbert’s excellent 2002 article “Ice Memory,” Steffens says our
frenzied growth in this one era could only happen because we have been
fortunate enough to have a period of calm in the storm.

“Why didn't human beings make civilisation fifty thousand years ago? You
know that they had just as big brains as we have today. When you put it in a
climatic framework, you can say, "Well, it was the ice age. And also this
ice age was so climatically unstable that each time you had the beginning of a
culture they had to move. Then comes the present interglacial — ten thousand
years of very stable climate. The perfect conditions for agriculture. If you
look at it, it's amazing. Civilisations in Persia, in China, and in India start
at the same time, maybe six thousand years ago. They all developed writing and
they all developed religion and they all built cities, all at the same time,
because the climate was stable. I think that if the climate would have been
stable fifty thousand years ago it would have started then. But they had no
chance.” (4)

Climatologist James Hansen echoed the same sentiment a few years later. “…
civilization developed, and constructed extensive infrastructure, during a
period of unusual climate stability, the Holocene, now almost 12 000 years in
duration,” he said. “That period is about to end.” (5)

Of course, all these statements were made before the most potentially
serious sign of the future -- bubbles of methane released from melting ice --
were seen frothing up from under the Arctic at an alarming rate. Most of the
change so far has been from carbon dioxide; methane is dozens of times worse.

It’s a realisation with breath-taking implications for the whole idea of
climate change. Rather than a steady climb upwards, easy to predict, track and
prove, we could face a chaotic series of extremes in all directions, depending
on where we are.

Convincing people that the climate is changing presents an obvious
difficulty; since climate is simply the average of thousands of days of
weather, any of which is unpredictable in itself, change is difficult to see
except by careful noticing over time. Even then such changes could be
determined if the change was steady and predictable; if the temperatures,
wherever you are, were to rise one degree per decade, then after a decade or
two the world could have taken readings and had an answer before televisions
were invented.

When the change means wilder swings, though, predicting the
effects of climate change becomes even more difficult, as does convincing
people. No one could ever blame climate change for any one weather event, any
more than one could ever blame tobacco companies for any one smoker’s lung
cancer.

You could, however, look broadly at the number of smokers who die of lung
cancer, and compare them with the number of non-smokers, and you can calculate
a certain per cent increase in the risk of cancer. In the same way, we can look
at a typical climate and calculate what we are seeing that is unusual, as NASA
scientists did earlier this year, and find that climate change caused the 2003
European heat wave that killed tens of thousands of people, or the 2010 Russian
heat wave that caused massive peat fires, or the heat wave in Texas and Oklahoma
last year. (6)

Or let’s say you just stick to this year. My daughter and I visited my
native Missouri, which was enduring the same unprecedented heat and drought as
most of the continent; July was the hottest month in US history. The weather is
destroying farmers’ crops and driving up global food prices, which could lead
to riots and civil war in countries where millions of poor people depend on the
baseline price. Gardeners I know there are giving up; even if they have water,
they say, the soil dries so quickly that it’s of no use.

We visited an acquaintance in the Ozark Mountains, and thankfully the
forests there had not burned; Colorado and New Mexico were not so lucky.

Then we visited friends in Minnesota when floods hit Duluth – floods like no
one had ever seen before, floods that ripped canyons through town big enough
for cars to fall into, floods great enough to lift seals out of their
enclosures at the zoo and set them on someone’s front lawn. A report last month
found that the number of heavy rains had increased 30 per cent since 1948.

Then we returned to Ireland, seeing near-constant rain and chill. A couple
of years ago, Ireland saw its worst flooding in 800 years, with waters covering
vast areas – but the very next summer saw a lack of rain, to the point that we
worried that the peat bogs around us could catch fire. That winter we had a
deep snowfall – something that almost never happens in Ireland. The next year
we had another.

No doubt in a matter of months, various number-crunchers will diligently
inform the world that these events were due to our human activities,
unprecedented signs of a world to come, and be dismissed again.

At one of my talks in Minnesota, I talked about this, saying that the stock
environmental message about climate change is wrong. We don’t have a certain
number of years to avoid it, and we’re not on a countdown. That passed long
ago.

Because most mainstream media elites are located on the coasts, I said, a
standard message about climate change has been that it will flood the coasts –
the loss of part of Manhattan was one of the frightening scenarios posited in
Al Gore’s Nobel-Prize-winning Power Point presentation. The real danger, I
said, is not the loss of this or that city; people can move, after all, and
Tulsa is not less valuable than New York. The danger, I said, is that crop
failure becomes commonplace, until even fewer young men want to become farmers,
or that farms become too great a risk for financiers, or that even homesteaders
don't know what to plant this year.

Someone asked me afterward what kind of solution I would propose. I said
that we could grow a great variety of different crops, so that something would
succeed. It would involve everyone participating in an intensive degree of
homesteading and market gardening, to the point that we would be doing little
else with our lives, but perhaps that’s for the best.

I said I could also recommend asking ourselves why, during millions of years
of chaotic climate, so little of the world was harmed. I would like to hear
from a paleo-biologist, but my guess would be that so much of the world was
covered with forests, and could withstand extremes more easily. Forests can
also help regulate their own climate; trees can break the fall of heavy rain
before they hit the soil, and their roots keep soil from eroding. Their leaves
cool the ground with their shade, and can exude enough moisture to generate
their own clouds, as above rainforests. Perhaps the best thing we can do, I
said, is take a page from Genghis Khan and Columbus, and help some failing
cropland turn back to its natural state again.

It wouldn't undo everything, but it would be a victory in the battle for normality.

Photos: Top: The River Liffey near our home, flooded in late 2009.Second: My daughter on the Burren, once a forest in the west of Ireland,
now a stark and rocky landscape. Third: Frost on the bushes outside our home, in 2010's winter
freeze. Fourth: Our garden overgrown after this year's near-constant rain. Fifth: Our property after the blizzard of 2010.Bottom: A woodland in County Clare, regrown and cultivated by an old ecologist
for forty years.

About Me

Let’s say we've lost most of the self-reliant skills and classical education that our forbears posessed. Let's say we have replaced them with a culture of buying and discarding things we don't value, and staring at glowing screens. Let's say you want to try to rediscover an older way of life, believing we will need such things again.
And let’s say you have a daughter.